Want To Talk About It?
by thisiseveryshadeofwrong
Summary: It's not really a question, the way that she says it. She knows the answer, but she's almost praying for a different one. She doesn't want him to fall into the darkness that she knows is there, even though she has no doubt that he's already almost there. She doesn't really know how far gone he is. Carrie/Brody. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_I wrote this in about 10 minutes, just getting a feeler on whether people want some more Homeland Fanfiction. They've given us too much to work with, with both the main characters and it's just too big an opportunity to pass up. Review if you'd like another chapter. It will probably just be a two chapter story but it will have an ending._

**Summary:** It's not really a question, the way that she says it. She knows the answer, but she's almost praying for a different one. She doesn't want him to fall into the darkness that she knows is there, even though she has no doubt that he's already almost there. She doesn't really know how far gone he is. Carrie/Brody

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. All HBO and Showtime's.

**Rating:** Teen

She walks back towards him, shutting the door of the car in the pouring rain.

"You're not going back to that support group are you?"

It's not really a question, the way that she says it. She knows the answer, but she's almost praying for a different one. She doesn't want him to fall into the darkness that she knows is there, even though she has no doubt that he's already almost there. She doesn't really know how far gone he is.

"No… I don't think I'll even go back inside."

"Why not?"

"Carrie… Can I call you Carrie?" he waits for her nod of approval that he hopes is coming. She nods, and so he continues. "It's not the right place for me. I don't deserve to be in there, with them. They're real heroes. All I did was not die."

He looks at the ground as he says this, his hair plastered down to his skull because of the rain. His clothes are soaked through and he's starting to shiver.

"You did more than that, Brody. You lived through it and you came out the other side intact."

Even as she says it though, she is painfully aware that it's not true, (not that he knows that she has seen his suffering back home) with the violent nightmares that more often than not end up with his wife fleeing from the room, afraid that he will hurt her (accidentally) again. She's seen and heard his cries during the night that more than often mirror her own when she first returned from her stint overseas. She remembers her own nights, waking up drenched in sweat and screaming words she can't remember when she awakens. She knows more than he knows about what he's going through.

But he doesn't know that.

Brody laughs sarcastically, looking up from his intense study of the puddles on the ground to glance into her eyes before pulling his gaze back to the ground

"I wish." He says.

"Well do you wanna talk about it?" Carrie's short question is left hanging in the air as she turns on her heels, looking over her shoulder and inviting him to follow. He looks back towards the meeting, at his watch, and then back to her.

"Yeah. Yeah I think I do."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** It's not really a question, the way that she says it. She knows the answer, but she's almost praying for a different one. She doesn't want him to fall into the darkness that she knows is there, even though she has no doubt that he's already almost there. She doesn't really know how far gone he is. Carrie/Brody

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. All HBO and Showtime's.

**Rating:** Teen

"_Well do you wanna talk about it?" Carrie's short question is left hanging in the air as she turns on her heels, looking over her shoulder and inviting him to follow. He looks back towards the meeting, at his watch, and then back to her._

"_Yeah. Yeah I think I do."_

Carrie starts walking towards the car, stopping only to take her jacket off and throw it into the back seat once she opens the door. Brody slowly follows her, seemingly wary of the invitation he's been given. Once they are both seated in the car, Carrie cranks the heater up high, hoping to warm both of them up, and dry out a little bit.

"Why were you at the meeting, Carrie?" Brody asks, looking over to her from the passenger seat. He fiddles with the bottom of his shirt. The first thing Carrie notices about him now is how withdrawn he becomes when he's not in front of people he wants to impress. It's similar to the way he wakes up from nightmares in the morning when Jess has already left for work.

"I was in a war zone for quite a long time. Not the same thing as you though. Undercover work, sources, assets - just my job, but in another country." The reply is short, but not unkind.

"But you obviously went through something to land yourself in a veteran support group."

"I did, but this isn't about me. You want to head anywhere to talk?"

"Somewhere private. Too many people know who I am now." Brody says as he falls back into thought. "I don't really know any private places around here though. I haven't been out much."

_Somewhere private…_ thinks Carrie. _He wants to go somewhere private. Why does he want to go somewhere private?_ As always, Carrie's head is moving at one hundred kilometres an hour, and even at this time of night she still seems to overanalyse everything possible. She thinks for a moment as well, before telling herself to shut up. _Leave it Carrie. He just wants to talk, and you might get something out of him without even trying._

Following this, she turns the key in the ignition and starts up the engine, driving out through the pouring rain in the parking lot and onto the road.

"I know a place." She says. "It's nice."

Brody looks across at her, a small smile moving across his face. This time his smile seems to reach his eyes, whereas on television and in the debriefing it was a purely illusionist smile.

"Thanks Carrie."

*HOMELAND*

They're seated in the diner. Carrie was right – it is discreet and quite, manned only by a small woman, who by the looks of it (and the reputation of the surrounding neighbourhood) doesn't care about what the hell her patrons want to talk about. As soon as they reciever their drinks - a coffee for Carrie and an Old English tea for Brody – she leaves the room, giving them free reign to talk about whatever they want.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Carrie asks bluntly. She's not going to beat around the bush, and that's never been something she has been known for in the past. Get straight down to business, that's her motto.

"I don't know. I just don't have anyone to talk to… The kids are kids, Jess has no idea of what I've been through and I don't expect her to."

"Well isn't there anyone else, maybe someone in the military that you can talk to about this? That's probably the least they can do after you got captured in their employment."

"I don't really want anything to do with the military. The only reason I re-enlisted was the benefits the family would get through it. I'm not ever going into active service again… Not that they'd ask me to." Brody looks down into his tea, breaking eye contact again. He's uncomfortable, and Carrie notices.

_Tone down on the interrogation technique, Carrie_.

Carrie takes a sip of her drink before asking another question. "Do you get nightmares?" she asks, before looking straight at him. He is still looking down at the tea in front of him.

"Yeah."

"What are they like?"

"Vivid."

"Flashbacks as well?"

"Pretty much every day. There's nothing I can do to avoid it."

"Well that's what happens when you go through what we did. I had nightmares for months, even years after I first came back. I still get them now from the most recent time I was overseas." Carrie makes a special note of never revealing where it was that she went in the conversation, lest it looks like she's fishing for some kind of information. She just doesn't quite have a pin on Brody, no matter how much she would like to hope.

"I know. Jess didn't know what I was doing the first time I had a nightmare. She thinks I've turned into some violent soldier."

"Why's that?"

"I don't think she understands what I had to go through… No, I know she doesn't understand what I had to go through. I don't think she can, that's what I meant."

"Well, people can't unless they've been through it themselves. It's just one of those things."

"Yeah, Carrie. I guess so."

They've had the entire conversation with Brody's head facing the table, seemingly immersed in studying the tea he was stirring with his spoon. Suddenly he looks up.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks, "if that's okay?"

Carrie looks straight at him, a smile on her face. "I brought you here because you wanted to talk about it. Talk."

"When I first got back, the night I got back, Jess was horrified when she saw me. Not me just when I got off the plane, but when I was getting changed."

He decides to leave out the fact that they were actually making out, not that he's aware that she already knows.

"She saw all of the scars on my chest, and on my back. It's like they made me into a different person, just for being there."

As he finishes his sentence, he looks back down at the tea. He knows that she knows everything that was done to him and what he went through. Hell, all of the CIA knows, because that's their job. Jess is the only one back home who has seen the damage though, and he doesn't want to share it with anyone else if that is the reaction that he gets.

"Brody… I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you… I just wanted to talk."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** It's not really a question, the way that she says it. She knows the answer, but she's almost praying for a different one. She doesn't want him to fall into the darkness that she knows is there, even though she has no doubt that he's already almost there. She doesn't really know how far gone he is. Carrie/Brody

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. All HBO and Showtime's.

**Rating:** Teen

_"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you… I just wanted to talk."_

They leave the diner after a couple of hours of sitting, talking and just being. When Carrie offers a drink back at her place he doesn't decline. He's readily falling into the trap of drinking to get away from things he doesn't like.

"Your wife won't mind you being home late?" Carrie asks.

"She thinks I'm still at the vet meeting. I won't tell her otherwise… And technically we're having our own meeting here. Two people make a meeting."

Carrie is unsure of what to say, so she leaves the conversation. They're just around the corner of her house, and she sees no reason to keep it going. They sit in silence for a few minutes as the car coasts along the deserted streets. Carrie looks over to Brody, who is once again immersed in his own thoughts. He doesn't seem to connect to people well, but she expected that.

"Are you okay?" Carrie asks, not wanting to pry but feeling the need to be friendly. "You've been staring at nothing for half the night…"

"I'm fine… I just need… I want a drink."

As he says this they pull into the driveway of Carrie's house. She stops the engine, pulls her keys out and looks over to Brody.

"This is us," says Carrie, as she steps out of the car and waits for him to follow. As he does, she moves quickly up to the front door and opens it, turning lights on through the house and moving towards the kitchen.

"Nice place," Brody murmurs, looking around inquisitively. He observes the simple décor and the organisation of the place, which, he guesses, is typical for a CIA agent.

He moves into the kitchen as well as she is selecting what to drink. He feels out of place here, even though initially he was comfortable. The environment is unknown, and although previously he sought out danger, there is something telling him that this place is not where he should be at the moment.

"Carrie, I think I have to go home," he says quickly, before she can pour wine into the glasses she had set out on the table.

"Why? What's wrong?"

He can't think of anything to say, mainly because there's no reason he feels like leaving other than the fact that he is uncomfortable. It's been a difficult day and he's reaching the point where he can't keep control of his emotions and temper. He doesn't want to screw up what he feels could lead somewhere in the future. He decides after thinking it through that it's not worth him going home as its past 11 at night and his car is still at the vet meeting. Jess is used to him going AWOL these days anything.

"Nothing. I'll stay. I'm just feeling pretty tired; it's been a long day."

Carrie hands him the drink, not taking her eyes off him at any time.

"You can sleep here tonight if you want. I'll set a guest room up." Carrie says.

His eyes move upwards at the offer, locking with her gaze.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** It's not really a question, the way that she says it. She knows the answer, but she's almost praying for a different one. She doesn't want him to fall into the darkness that she knows is there, even though she has no doubt that he's already almost there. She doesn't really know how far gone he is. Carrie/Brody

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. All HBO and Showtime's.

**Rating:** Teen

**This is it guys. Last chapter and hopefully it goes alright. I try not to do really long stories because eventually I lose track of everything and it never gets finished and that's just not fair on you guys. Enjoy.**

"_You can sleep here tonight if you want. I'll set a guest room up." Carrie says._

_His eyes move upwards at the offer, locking with her gaze. _

"Are you sure? I don't want to intrude… Not that I already haven't already." Brody says while he rubs his arms. He's getting cold and he hasn't quite dried off yet. Now still seems like the perfect time to go home and sort some things out with Jess.

"It's fine Brody, really, I don't mind."

"I'll see what happens."

"Okay," Carrie says. "Feel free to get yourself a drink."

Brody obliges and pours himself several whiskey shots and downs them quickly while she heads off to fix up the guest bedroom. He decides that if he's going to open up to someone tonight it's going to be after a hell of a lot more alcohol. One or two drinks won't do it even though he wants this, because he feels like if he doesn't confide in anyone he might just self-implode. He doesn't even know why he picked Carrie, as she doesn't exactly seem like an obvious choice. No, she doesn't seem like a fucking choice at all. She's a CIA agent, and he's pretty sure she could blab all his perfect little secrets off to someone who has a lot of influence over, well, anyone.

He sits down in the living room with his bottle and a shot glass. He wants this to lead somewhere. It's not like he doesn't love Jessica. He does. He really, truly does, but they don't work. They can't work anymore. He hates waking up in the morning to find the bed deserted, and then to see her minutes later with bruises up her arms. He hates not being able to talk to her, because every time he tries to even talk about something remotely important or personal his throat closes up and the most he can manage is 'I'm fine,' or 'I don't want to talk about it,' when they both know it's not true. He hates having to hide all of his fear from the world, which means that all his anger explodes outwards at his family. He really, really, just doesn't want to hurt her anymore.

And it's not like she didn't cheat on him, right?

_Not right._ A voice in his head says. _Not right. She thought you were dead. Everyone thought you were dead. She waited seven years then moved on to a stable relationship. Wouldn't you have?_

Maybe he would have, maybe he wouldn't. He doesn't know anything anymore. Everything is different, everything is strange. His children are strange, and he doesn't know how to talk to them. He knows they're scared of him, and scared of the things he does when he gets angry. He knows Chris is still frightened of when he assaulted the reporter and shot a deer, and there's nothing he can do to take it back. He just hopes they never find out anything else about him.

"Brody?"

He jumps at the word, and realises he's been staring off into the fireplace (which is empty) for quite some time."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Carrie says, coming to sit next to him on the couch. "I set up the guest room; you can head there any time you want."

"Thankyou." His voice comes out as a slight slur, having gone through a fair amount of whiskey in the period of time she was both setting up the bed, and, as it appears, showering.

"Sorry I took so long, I wanted to get cleaned up after being in the rain for a while. I hope you don't mind."

"'S'Ok. I don't mind being by myself," Brody says as he looks up to her face. "Hey Carrie, I think I'm drunk enough to do some of that real talking I wanted to get done."

Carrie sits, stunned. She didn't think he'd get absolutely plastered in order to talk to her. She didn't really expect him to talk to her at all though, but here he was. The enigma of the man sitting beside her suddenly became her puzzle to solve. Even though she couldn't see through his eyes, she knew she'd get in there soon enough.

"Let's get you to bed. You can lie down and I can sit in the chair in there. It's nicer than here."

"Not without my drink…" Brody mutters, standing up as he grabs his bottle off the small table next to the couch. The light in the room is dull and doesn't help his balance much as he almost falls over. Carrie catches him. "Thank you, Carrie," he says, with a laugh.

They move towards the bedroom and Brody collapses on the bed as soon as it is underneath his legs. He shuffles up and sits back against the bed board while Carrie goes around the room turning off the lamps and turning out the main lights. She opens the window to let the natural light from the moon in, which illuminates most of the room that isn't already lit by the lamp.

"What did you want to talk about?" Carrie asks Brody, watching his face for a reaction.

"Anything. Anything I can talk about. I'm sick of not being able to talk to people about this."

"You could see a counsellor, you know."

"I know. I don't want to. I just want a friend to understand… I was kept there for eight years you know, and it didn't get any better. And I thought once I got home I would be fine, but I'm not. I'm not okay, and I'm nowhere near being okay and there's nothing I can do about it."

"You're talking now."

"I don't even know why I'm talking or what I'm talking about!" I don't know anything anymore – my family, my friends, my job. Everything I knew before I left is gone, and that was all that was keeping me going in that god-forsaken hole in the earth."

Carrie swallows at this information. She's had the same type of experience, where the world she held onto while she was away all but vanished into thin air on her return. It wasn't easy.

"You don't need to understand."

"I do though. I don't understand Jess, and I don't understand my kids. Jess is terrified of me, when I wake up in the middle of the night screaming at her and hurting her. The kids know, but they're too scared to say anything about it. I'm a mess, Carrie. I can't deal with this crap. I just wanted to get back from the war and get back to my life but now I almost wish I was back there because I have no idea what to do anymore."

Carrie doesn't know what to say, so instead she moves up onto the bed beside him.

"Brody, you can do this. You have to do this, for your family. There's nothing else to think about anymore. You lived through the abuse and they didn't break you. They should have, but they didn't.

"They didn't break me. Coming home broke me."

"You're not broken, Brody. You just need time to settle down and get used to living this life. You haven't had a chance to in years."

"…"

"There's nothing else I can say. I did it, so you can do it. That's the truth Brody. You might have been through more horrible things but it's the same circumstance. We can only do what we can with what has been given to us. You've been given a family. Use them."

As Carrie says this, she notices his eyes glazing over, and the eyelids beginning to fall. When she looks back at the bottle of whiskey and notices that it's almost half empty, and that it was full when she took it out of the cupboard for him. As he falls asleep, she takes note of his damp clothing and makes a decision to get him out of it. Thankfully, she still has clothes left over from her previous boyfriend. He is only just alert enough to stop her from taking his pants off for him and rather does it himself, changing into a pair of tracksuit pants. After that effort though, he falls into a deep sleep, leaving Carrie to change him out of his shirt.

She pulls of his shirt and gasps at what she sees for once, in real life. Not just on a fuzzy computer screen, but on his body. She is horrified and takes a step backwards. The scars are huge and they cover most of his torso. That some must have been there for years is just shocking when she sees the sizes of some of them. She grazes her hands along the biggest she can see, which is one that covers almost across his entire chest and spreads several inches wide. There's no end to the amount of scars though, they seem to completely cover him.

It's in that instant that she realises something. Even if what she thinks about him is true, he suffered through a lot to get there, and she can't blame him for that. She can blame him for everything else, and everybody else can too, but in the end he was pulled apart.

And there's not one person she can blame for that that is within reach.

**Fin.**

**Just a few quick notes: I thought that the Carrie/Brody relationship went waaaaaaay too quickly. Initially I was sceptic but The Weekend clinched it for me. They should be together, and I hope, somehow, that they can be. I also heavily sympathise with Brody (if that wasn't obvious enough) that even though he says he wasn't brainwashed, he WAS heavily tortured and screwed up to the point where Nazir 'rescued' him.**


End file.
